The Girl With The Flaxen Card
by wallflower1
Summary: Ivy learns nobody in the Dollhouse stays unsullied for long.


**Title:** The Girl With The Flaxen Card  
**Characters**: Ivy, Claire Saunders, Topher, Adelle  
**Spoilers: **Haunted, Omega  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not Joss.  
**Summery:** Nobody in the Dollhouse stays unsullied for long.  
**AN:** Many thanks to my crackerjack beta, denelian for looking over this. Written for the lj comm still_grrrr. Title inspired by that famous Debussy song.

* * *

Ivy chewed on the cuticle of her thumbnail. "I need something to help me sleep."

Dr. Saunders made a few marks in her file. "You really should talk to-"

"A psychiatrist? Yeah, Dewitt said the same thing. Only she said it would have to be an imprint, for security reasons." Ivy coughed up a laugh. "It was weird."

Understate of the year. Earlier that week, she sent Mike out in a pair of ass-less chaps and a leather harness around his chest. His caring doctor routine, complete with tweed and horned rim glasses (Topher's idea, she's sure) seemed just as fake.

"You should have at least taken more time off, gotten more rest," Dr. Saunders said.

"I feel worse at home." The tall ceilings and exposed brick of her loft was a perfect place for her mind to project every horrific scenario that could have been. Even when she did fall asleep, she'd wake up in a cold sweat, slapping at phantom electrodes over her skin. Half awake, could still see_ him_ standing in the shadows with a smug grin glowing in the blue light. Or feeling the slick hunks of Topher's brain as he killed Topher, then Echo; his alibi wound tight against him as he pointed his gun at her.

Dr. Saunder's voice was low and even. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Mike the doctor said the same thing. So did Topher, Adelle and even Boyd, who normally didn't speak to her at all.

"Why me?" No one could answer her that. Dr. Saunders starred at a point over her head.

"You're dedicated and unassuming; your competency a clear mark against you. You don't question what we do, but you treat the actives as people." Looking in her eyes, Dr. Saunders continued. "Unlike everyone else here, you're uncompromised, making your supposed deception an easier lie to be believed."

Ivy blinked back tears. "_That's_ why I was singled out? Because I'm not as messed up as everyone else in the Dollhouse?"

"Nobody stays unsullied here for long." Not for the first time, Ivy noticed how stark Dr. Saunders scars looked whenever she looked her in the eye. By some doctor's instinct, Dr. Saunders turned around, spending enough time digging around in the cabinet for Ivy to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her lab coat.

"Here," she handed Ivy a plastic bottle half full of little pills. "Take two before bed, preferably with something to coat your stomach. There is enough here to last the next two weeks." Out of the pocket of her coat, she took out a business card and a pen.

"This is the number of a colleague of mine. He works for Rossum, so there shouldn't be any problem for you to talk to him. I'd suggest running it by Boyd just to be sure."

"Thank you, Dr. Saunders." The card was made of thick, yellowish paper, the Rossum name and emblem embossed in black with with Dr. C. Saunders below in italics.

"Having a business card for your secret underground job isn't very secret," Ivy said, trying hard not to giggle, but failing. From where she was tidying up her instruments, Ivy could see the corner of Dr. Saunders mouth turn up, just a little.

"I have dozens of them in a box in my desk," Dr. Saunders said.

"I know how to fold them into little shapes. I could come by tomorrow and show you how."

Bent over the monitor, Dr. Saunders hair fell around her face. "Thank you for offering, but I actually won't be here."

"Really? Where are you going?" She'd been here almost a year and she hardly ever sees Dr. Saunders in the upper levels, let alone out of the building.

"Dr. Saunders," Dewitt walked in. "A car is ready to take you to the airport."

It was weird, seeing Dr. Saunders trade her cream doctors coat for a dark brown fur trimmed one. Designer, if Ivy had to guess, like everyone else wore.

"Ivy." Dewitt could wrap a question and a command all into a name, and Ivy left the infirmary with a hasty bye.

The programming office was empty, but Topher called out from the imprint room. "Ivy! Hey! I thought you had gone home already."

"I was about to leave, actually. Where's your friend?" Two Xbox controllers lay amidst the beer bottles and chip bags littered on table in front of the couch.

"Grabbing the delicious greasy pizza that does not have whole wheat crust or olive oil brushed on," Topher said.

Ivy gathered her things. "Geeze, who wouldn't want that? When you die at thirty, I'm selling your toys on Ebay and buying a fish tank."

"Are you kidding? Another five years they will have a pill that will dissolve the fat from my veins. And if not, why should I deny myself? You only live once." She peeked over his shoulder; a shell of a brain glowed white on screen, ready for upload.

She almost made a comment about Echo's engagement, but stopped herself. Purse in hand and coat on, she was ready to leave.

"The levels in the pods should adjust automatically but they need to be checked periodically so the Actives don't become overly sedated." Behind Dr. Saunders, Adelle walked in with a coat draped over one arm.

"Of course, Dr. Saunders. Topher will have a detailed report on your desk."

Topher slid by Ivy to boot up the chair. "Yes. Every minute detail will be documented for you to read at your leisure."

Dr. Saunders glared at him. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm."

Topher shrugged. "Nobody does, really."

Dewitt cut them both off. "Why don't you let Topher give you a treatment?"

Ivy stood there, not moving, almost unsure as to what she was watching. Dr. Saunders made a point of glaring at Topher's back as she sat down.

"My cell will be on, if you need to get a hold of me," she said as the chair reclined.

So many of her recent dreams started like this: layered things going on around her, things she had no idea were happening. Even the familiar call and response between Topher and the newly wiped seemed strange. Maybe because Ivy had never heard Dr. Saunders sound so empty.

"Now that you are aware of the situation, know I expect you to behave accordingly," Adelle said, one eyebrow raised in that _or else I'll have to do something unpleasant to you _way.

"Yes, Ms. Dewitt."

Adelle was barely out of the office before Ivy turned on Topher.

"Why didn't _you_ _tell me_?"

"You know now, don't you?" He lowered his voice, the one he used to talk to the Actives. "That information was strictly need to know. I was sworn to secrecy under threat of death. Of my fridge privileges."

"Topher!"

"It's no big deal," Topher said with a twist of his wrists. "When you think about it."

Ivy fingered the business card in her pocket; tracing the smooth embossed and textured paper, not letting go until she was sitting in her car. She glared at Dr. C Saunders, at this stupid, pointless thing. Instead of throwing it away, Ivy folded one corner, covering the Rossum spiral, then another, and a dozen more folds until she had a little flax colored bird on her dashboard.

She did not want to think about why, out of the hundreds of times she's witnessed the process, done the process, seeing Dr. Saunders wiped away seemed perverse.

Ivy unfolded the bird, stared at the phone number. It was time to take a few more days off. She would call this doctor too, and hope she won't see a familiar face.


End file.
